Collusion

by De'nesha Diamond

  * * *

  The protesters were gone. They left the day Marion died and hadn’t returned. Cargill poured himself and Peter Lautner each a bourbon. “Here’s to Randall closing the case.” Cargill clinked their glasses together. “When will the press release go out? The sooner this mess is in my rearview mirror, the better.”

  The phone rang.

  “Hold that thought,” Cargill said, and then strolled over to the phone on the corner of his desk. He didn’t recognize the number but answered anyway. “Hello.”

  “Hello, daddy dearest.”

  There was pause while a slow smile eased across Cargill’s lips. “Abrianna,” he said. “What a pleasant surprise.”

  Lautner also lifted a surprised brow.

  “To what do I owe this pleasure? Are you finally coming back home?”

  “Bluemount is not my home. And it’s not going to be your home much longer. Have you not seen the news?”

  “No. Should I have?”

  “The Lifeline Adoption Agency is being raided as we speak.”

  “What?” Cargill powered on the television. “Breaking News: Lynnwood trafficked children found” scrolled at the bottom. “The hell?”

  “Yeah. Did you know that Marion kept diaries?”

  The question threw him while he tried to split his attention between her and the television screen. “Diaries? What are you talking about?”

  “She left a whole trunkload of them with her friend Tina. She wrote down every dirty secret on these beautiful gold-rimmed pages; she wrote all about the Lifeline Adoption agency. And this time, I made damn sure that these books don’t disappear. The FBI, the attorney general, as well as a few media outlets have copies of the books most pertinent in putting you behind bars for the rest of your life.”

  Eyes wide, Lautner sank into one of the leather chairs before the screen.

  Police sirens whirled in the distance.

  “What’s that?” Cargill rushed to the window to see the glow of blue lights. “What the hell is going on?”

  “Sounds like that’s your ride coming.”

  “You little bitch,” Cargill raged.

  Abrianna laughed. “Goodbye, asshole. I hope you burn in hell.” She hung up.

  The blue lights drew closer.

  Cargill gulped down his drink, and immediately a fire scorched his throat, but before he could gasp for air, his windpipe closed off. He turned toward Lautner for help, but Lautner was on his knees and clawing at his throat.

  Cargill hit his knees, too. His head felt like it was growing like a balloon.

  Lautner keeled over. His body writhed violently as a bloody foam bubbled from the corners of his mouth.

  Poison. Scared and confused, Cargill realized that he was going to die. His fear escalated as he raked his nails down his neck and drew blood. At long last, he collapsed while a thick foam of blood eliminated that last route for oxygen. Seconds later, his heart stopped.

  63

  Out of all the many ways that President Washington wanted the whole Walkergate to end, the police finding billionaire Cargill Parker and his lawyer dead by poisoning was not one of them. Capitol Hill and talk radio was turning her young administration into mincemeat with headlines like: “Who killed Cargill Parker?” All morning, she fielded calls from members of her own party, begging her not to run for election. If she insisted, she would be primaried.

  “Can you blame them?” Davidson asked.

  “Shut up,” she snapped, pacing a hole into the Oval Office’s carpet. Having a dead billionaire on her hands was bad enough, but for the last hour, news coverage shifted to reports of U.S. Attorney Jaclyn Randall being arrested for sabotaging the Cargill Parker case and her first assistant attorney Kellerman accusing Randall of being behind the attempted murder of a child witness. Apparently, an old city hero and ex-police lieutenant, Gizella Castillo, had saved the little girl. It seemed Castillo also discovered the city’s police chief Holder near death in his home on the same night.

  “The whole damn town has gone mad,” Kate seethed.

  “This is Washington,” Davidson joked. “It’s your circus now for the time being—unless you’re still crazy enough to run to keep this loony bin of an office next year.”

  Kate nibbled on her bottom lip.

  Davidson shook his head. “My God. You are, aren’t you?”

  * * *

  Abrianna placed a bundle of flowers over Marion’s grave. Emotions rioted through her as she read Marion’s name and life span engraved in the gray marble tombstone. She wished she could go back in time and change so many bad decisions. When she stood, Kadir wrapped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close for the long walk back toward the car.

  Tina Bouchard stood waiting. “Hey,” she said, smiling with shimmering eyes. “I hoped I’d see you here today.”

  “You really loved her,” Abrianna said. “I’m glad that someone was there for her over the years.”

  “I did. And I still do. That’s why I need to show you something.”

  Surprised, Abrianna tossed a look at Kadir.

  He shrugged, showing that he didn’t have a clue to what this was about either.

  “You guys can tail my car.”

  They agreed and followed Tina’s white Mercedes across town to Howard University. They parked near the stadium. Various groups of students were in different stages of stretching or running up and down the field.

  Abrianna’s confusion only deepened as she and Kadir climbed out of the car. “Why are we here?”

  Tina smiled and waved for them to follow.

  Kadir and Abrianna fell in line behind Tina’s distinctive walk. Abrianna snuck a peek to check where Kadir kept his gaze. To her amusement, he concentrated too hard on making sure that his eyes stayed glued to the back of Tina’s head and not her hips.

  She gently elbowed his side and laughed.

  “What?”

  She shook her head.

  They reached the bleachers and had a clearer view of the athletes.

  “All right. What gives? Why are we here?”

  Tina smiled and searched through the runners. “There he is,” she said, pointing.

  Abrianna followed the direction of Tina’s finger.

  “Do you see the handsome guy running with the bright orange sneakers?”

  “Yeah.”

  “They’re his lucky sneakers,” Tina said proudly.

  “Okay.”

  “Don’t you recognize him?”

  Abrianna frowned and took in the young man’s fit form and handsome face. Something tickled in the back of her memory, but she couldn’t quite place the face. “No. I don’t think so.”

  Proud, Tina proclaimed, “It’s Samuel. Your brother.”

  Incredulous, Abrianna’s gaze shot to Tina.

  “What?”

  “That night when you tried to rescue Samuel, it’s true that Marion thought, in that moment, he was dead. But when both Cargill and Samuel were taken to the hospital in separate ambulances, they were able to detect a faint heartbeat in Samuel. When it was clear that Cargill would survive, too, Marion had her first burst of courage. She—along with my checkbook—paid off a lot of people to hide the fact that Samuel had survived.

  “My brother and his wife in Atlanta were unable to have children, so they were thrilled to take Samuel. He chose to come here for college. He’s a smart kid. Marion wanted to tell you, but she couldn’t risk telling a soul.”

  Abrianna returned her attention to Samuel. He was a handsome young man, grinning at his teammate. He looked so . . . happy. Tears flowed down Abrianna’s face. For the first time in a long while, her shoulders were lighter. “He’s alive.”

  “Yes. In the end, your bravery that night really did save him. When you had initially run away, Marion was happy for you—then when she heard about the Avery situation, she was devastated. But once that was all over—she really hoped that you’d found your way to some measure of happiness. She really did.”

 
; “Does he remember . . . ?”

  Kadir slid an arm around her waist.

  “Does he remember you?” Tina smiled. “He does. We never lied to him. Which is why I know that he can’t wait to see you again.”

  Abrianna’s heart fluttered. “Really?”

  Tina nodded. “Really. Come on.” Tina whistled and waved to Samuel before leading the way onto the field.

  Kadir pressed a kiss to Abrianna’s head. “I’m so happy for you, baby.”

  Abrianna lit up as she and Kadir fell in step behind Tina. As they drew closer to the track field, Tina shouted, “Sam!”

  He stopped and looked up, shielding his eyes.

  Abrianna reached for Kadir’s hand. He grabbed it and held it as they completed the walk.

  Samuel towered over all of them. He was a lean six-four with a dust of brown sugar coloring and hazel eyes. When he smiled, Marion’s dimples winked back at her. He was definitely not Cargill’s son.

  Tina made the introductions while the brother and sister smiled and drank each other in.

  “Hello,” Samuel said in a baritone made for late night radio.

  “Hi.” Abrianna’s graze raked him up and down. “My gosh. You’ve grown so tall.”

  They laughed, and then suddenly Samuel snatched her up into his arms and swung her around.

  Kadir’s face nearly broke in half from smiling. A buzz in his right pocket broke the spell. He scooped the phone. Looking at the unknown caller ID, he was certain that it was Ghost and just made a mental note to call him back later. But as soon as he returned the phone to his pocket, it started buzzing again. This can’t be good.

  Sighing, Kadir stepped away and turned his back to the happy brother and sister reunion. “Hey, Ghost. This isn’t a good time.”

  “We fucked up.” Ghost cut to the chase.

  “Wait. What?” Kadir asked, confused.

  “T4S struck again. They have Lehane.”

  “How? When?”

  “They took her the other night. Her face is plastered all over the news as missing. They even burned her townhouse to the ground.”

  “Fuck?” Kadir pivoted back toward the happy reunion.

  Ghost asked, “My boys are ready. We’re strapping up and going in after, right?”

  Kadir raked his hand through his hair, thinking.

  “Kadir, you there? It’s not over, right?”

  DON’T MISS

  Conspiracy by De’nesha Diamond

  On sale now

  After a harrowing abduction, Abrianna Parker is forced to repay a debt that she never owed. Her only option is to trade working the gentlemen’s clubs for an elite escort service. But getting framed for a high-profile murder isn’t what the cool-headed beauty signed up for . . .

  1

  Washington, D.C.

  Winter

  A scared and hungry fourteen-year-old Abrianna Parker stepped out of Union Station and into the dead of night. The exhilaration she’d felt a mere hour ago evaporated the second D.C.’s blistering wind sliced through her thin leather jacket and settled somewhere in her bones’ marrow. A new reality slammed into her with the force of a ton of bricks—and left her reeling.

  “Where is he?” she whispered as she scanned the growing crowd. Abrianna was more than an hour late to meet Shawn, but it couldn’t have been helped. Leaving her home had proved to be much harder than she’d originally realized. After several close calls, she’d managed to escape the house of horrors with a steel determination to never look back. Nothing could ever make her return.

  Now it appeared that she’d missed her chance to link up with her best friend from school, or rather they used to go to the same high school, before Shawn’s father discovered that he was gay, beat the hell out of him, and then threw him out of the house. Miraculously, Shawn had said that it was the best thing to have ever happened to him. Over the past year, he’d found other teenagers like him living out on the streets of D.C. His eclectic group of friends was better than any blood family, he’d boasted often during their frequent text messages.

  In fact, Shawn’s emancipation from his parents had planted the seeds in Abrianna’s head that she could do the same thing. Gathering the courage, however, was a different story. The prospect of punishment, if she was caught, had paralyzed her on her first two attempts and had left Shawn waiting for her arrival in vain. Maybe he thought she’d lost her nerve tonight as well. Had she thought to charge her battery before leaving the house, she would be able to text him now to find out where he was.

  Abrianna’s gaze skimmed through the hustle and bustle of the crowd, the taxis and cars. Everyone, it seemed, was in a hurry. Likely, they wanted to meet up with family and friends. It was an hour before midnight. There was a certain kind of excitement that only New Year’s Eve could bring: the tangible hope that, at the stroke of midnight, everyone magically changed into better people and entered into better circumstances than the previous year.

  Tonight, Abrianna was no different.

  With no sight of Shawn, tears splashed over Abrianna’s lashes but froze on her cheeks. Despite a leather coat lined with faux fur, a wool cap, and leather gloves, Abrianna may as well have been butt-ass naked for all the protection it provided. “Goddamn it,” she hissed, creating thick frost clouds in front of her face. “Now what?”

  The question looped in her head a few times, but the voice that had compelled her to climb out her bedroom window had no answer. She was on her own.

  Someone slammed into her from behind—hard.

  “Hey,” she shouted, tumbling forward. After righting herself on frozen legs, she spun around to curse at the rude asshole—but the assailant was gone. She was stuck looking around, mean-mugging people until they looked at her suspect.

  A sudden gust of wind plunged the temperature lower and numbed her face. She pulled her coat collar up, but it didn’t help.

  The crowd ebbed and flowed, but she stood in one spot like she’d grown roots, still not knowing what to do. And after another twenty minutes, she felt stupid—and cold. Mostly cold.

  Go back into the station—thaw out and think. However, when she looked at the large and imposing station, she couldn’t get herself to put one foot in front of the other. She had the overwhelming sense that her returning inside would be a sign of defeat, because, once she was inside, it wouldn’t be too hard to convince herself to get back on the train, go home and let him win . . . again.

  Icy tears skipped down her face. I can’t go back. Forcing her head down, she walked. She passed commuters yelling for cabs, huddled friends laughing—some singing, with no destination in mind. East of the station was bathed in complete darkness. She could barely make out anything in front of her. The only way she could deal with her growing fear was to ignore it. Ignore how its large, skeletal fingers wrapped around her throat. Ignore how it twisted her stomach into knots. Ignore how it scraped her spine raw.

  Just keep walking.

  “Help me,” a feeble voice called out. “Help!”

  Abrianna glanced around, not sure from which direction the voice had come. Am I losing my mind now?

  “Help. I’m not drunk!”

  It came from her right, in the middle of the road, where cars and taxis crept.

  “I’m not drunk!” the voice yelled.

  Finally, she made out a body lying next to a concrete divider—the kind work crews used to block off construction areas.

  “Help. Please!”

  Again, Abrianna looked around the crowds of people streaming past. Didn’t anyone else hear this guy? Even though that side of the building was dark, it was still heavily populated. Why was no one else responding to this guy’s cry for help?

  “Help. I’m not drunk!”

  Timidly, she stepped off the sidewalk and skulked into the street. As vehicles headed toward her, she held up her hand to stop some and weaved in between others. Finally, Abrianna stood above a crumpled old man, in the middle of the road, and was at a loss as to what to do.

>   “I’m not drunk. I’m a diabetic. Can you help me up?” the man asked.

  “Uh, sure.” She knelt, despite fear, and asked, What if it’s a trap?

  It could be a trap, Abrianna reasoned even as she wrapped one of the guy’s arms around her neck. Then, using all of her strength, she tried to help him to his feet, but couldn’t. A Good Samaritan materialized out of nowhere to help her out.

  “Whoa, man. Are you okay?” the stranger asked.

  Abrianna caught a glimpse of the Good Samaritan’s shoulder-length stringy blond hair as a passing cab’s headlights rolled by. He was ghost white with ugly pockmarks.

  “Yes. Yes,” the fallen guy assured. “It’s my blood sugar. If you could just help me back over to the sidewalk that would be great.”

  “Sure. No problem,” the blond stranger said.

  Together, they helped the old black man back across the street.

  “Thank you. I really appreciate this.”

  “No problem,” the white guy said, his teeth briefly illuminated by another passing car as a smoker’s yellow.

  Once back on the sidewalk, he released the old man. “You two have a happy New Year!” As quick as the blond savior had appeared, he disappeared back into the moving crowd.

  The old guy, huffing and puffing thick frost clouds, wrapped his hand around a NO PARKING sign and leaned against it.

  “Are you sure you’re all right?” Abrianna asked. It seemed wrong to leave him like this.

  He nodded. “I’m a little dizzy, but it will pass. Thank you now.”

  That should be that. She had done what she could for the man. It was best that she was on her way. But she didn’t move—probably because he didn’t look okay.

  As she suspected, he started sliding down the pole, his legs giving out. Abrianna wrapped his arm back around her neck to hold him up. “I got you,” she said. But the question was: for how long?